Fugue & Variation
by Alias Euterpe
Summary: Sr. Bernadette decides to nudge Jane towards happiness with The Rev., but stirs up more than she bargained for in her own heart. Takes place during 2.4 and explores the deliciously under-played Jane/Sr. Bernadette (Janadette?) parallels. Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. But that won't stop me from over analyzing them! CHAPTER 2 (finally) UP!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello!**_

_**Sorry so late. Last couple of months got kind of busy. I have updated Chapter 1. I felt I needed a bit more back story on Jane. **_

**_The genesis of this story is that delicious, but, with all due respect and certainly IMO, underdeveloped parallel between Jane and Sr. Bernadette as they find the courage to face their demons. It also comes from reconciling in my own mind the Jane of the book with the Jane of the series - both of whom I enjoy. I thought it a stroke of brilliance to alter Jane's back-story (but not much, all told) and make Sr. Bernadette the catalyst for Jane and her Reverend._**

* * *

**Fugue: **_a musical composition in which one or two themes are repeated or imitated by successively entering voices and contrapuntally developed in a continuous interweaving of the voice parts._

**Variation: **_a varied form of a melody or theme, especially one of a series of such forms developing the capacities of the subject._

_In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you. ~Gautama Buddha_

The idea had formed in her head the first time she saw them together in the kitchen, bent over the fish bowl Jane had won at the fair. It had been difficult for her to tear her eyes away from them. The palpable air of understanding between them stopped in her tracks and watched them with a small smile playing across her face. She wondered at the immediacy of it. Jane was such a quiet woman and he was such a garrulous man, one could easily over look the possibilities. She would have never seen it but for that moment in the kitchen.

Jane had come to them from the St. Gideon's Child Care Home, a residential institution for unwanted children. When Jane's parents had sent her away, it had been a home for both the well and unwell, but since had become a home for children who were victims of the unfortunate accident of being born with a disability.

Jane had been a bit of both. After endless nights in which Jane would wake up screaming inconsolably, her parents, at the end of their ropes, sent her away at the tender age of 6. They visited with reasonable regularity when she was young, but as she grew up the visits became less frequent. Jane had forgiven them, both figuratively and literally. It must have broken their hearts to admit defeat and let her go. They did the best they could with no preparation dealing with a child like her. Besides, it was what one did. It was commonly accepted that the best course of action was to place children like her in a home where they would be given proper care. It wasn't until she was an adult that she became aware that she was very lucky. That the home they chose, albeit coldly sufficient, could have been much worse.

In her early 20's her parents were lost in The Blitz. By that time, she had little familial connection with them. She mourned their loss as profoundly as one might expect but sometimes the family you make is more significant than the family you are born into. The only home she could remember was St. Gideon's. The children she grew up with were her family, her brothers and sisters, even once she had matured, her own children. Many of them, Jacob included, she fed, changed nappies, and rocked to sleep as infants. When she came of age with nowhere else to go, she made the natural transition to trustee working for her keep. Her job was that of medical orderly, not unlike the newly developed position she would hold at Nonnatus House.

It was explained to Sister Bernadette that Jane suffered from an acute form of an anxiety disorder the genesis of which was unknown. Usually these things began with some sort of childhood emotional trauma, but in other cases it seemed to be congenital, as if the brain simply had not developed properly. Had she been treated from an early age, perhaps she would have been able to return home to her family. When she had been admitted to St. Gideon's, it would be many years before the discipline of psychology generally and the behaviorist movement specifically was accepted. It wasn't until the period after the war, a time of great advances in the medical profession, that she began receiving effective treatment for her dibilitating anxiety.

While the young nurses were not made aware of her arrival, Sister Julienne had informed Sister Bernadette of the impending arrival of the newest member of Nonnatus House. She had met Jane herself at St. Gideon's on a donation trip. She had been impressed with Jane's gentleness and attentiveness with the other residents, many with whom she had grown up from infancy.

With the departure of Chummy, Nonnatus House desperately needed another hand. They could have requested a trained midwife from the board, but they knew Chummy would return in time. They only needed assistance in the interim. Jane had made such good progress in therapy that Mrs. Peacock had put her forward as a candidate for the new role of Medical Orderly at Nonnatus House. The reality was that she couldn't stay at St. Gideon's her entire life. Given her role as trustee at St. Gideon's, it seemed the perfect fit. While she was able enough to function fully in places in which she felt comfortable, remove her from that realm and she was in unchartered territory, set adrift on waves of nervousness and fear.

Through her work at St. Giddeons she had come so far. She had grown from a pertified little girl, who, when met with the task of coomunicating with another human being, stood petrified in fear as wave after wave of fear and panic all but shut her brain down and rendered her speechless. There now stood on the brink of the rest of her life a woman who fought a daily battle agaiinst these same feelings, but fight it she did in her own quiet way. If she were to live a life of independence she deserved, she would have to leave St. Gideon's and make her way in the world. Nonnatus House was the perfect setting or Jane to make her first tentative steps into her own life on her own terms.

Sister Julienne had tasked Sister Bernadette with helping to ease Jane's way with the minimal amount of anxiety. However, Sister Julienne had stressed the importance of not revealing to the younger nurses Jane's actual position at St. Gideon's so Jane would not be burdened with yet another emotional stigma as she found her place at Nonnatus and in her new life.

From the first day Sister Julienne had introduced Jane to them as they packed their bags, in her inimitably gentle fashion Sister Julienne directed the younger nurses to take Jane under their wings. After tasking Cynthia with a cup of tea and Trixie with a tour to Jane's room, Sister Julienne turned to leave the treatment room. Sister Bernadette caught her glance and a silent moment of assurance that she would pick up where Sister Julienne had left off passed between them.

Sister Bernadette looked forward to this assignment. In fact, she needed something to pour her energies into. She loved her work and her sisterhood, but she couldn't help feeling a nagging emptiness deep in her soul, a sense that she wasn't doing enough. Perhaps she was simply bored. Although how on earth she could be bored with the never ending variety of work escaped her. Helping Jane would take her mind off the small kernel lodged deep in her soul quietly tearing away at her from the inside. It was tearing a hole she found difficult to fill. Out of it flowed a restlessness that sent her to the chapel for private meditation ever more increasingly. It was an uneasiness in her world she was determined to control just as Jane had to control hers.

**Please review. They make me exceptionally happy.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **_

_**Miss me? I have been very busy - but not working on this. Not fully happy with the ending. I'll update it if the muse strikes but, at some point, you just have to throw it out into the universe. **_

_**In this chapter, I audaciously pilfer from Heidi Thomas' because I have found that I am complete and utter cr*p at writing dialogue. I know you will recognize Heidi Thomas' dialogue, but to be crystal clear: **Ms. Thomas' dialog is italicized. _Mine, is not.

* * *

_Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.__~Gautama Buddha_

Sister Bernadette set about her task with the determination of a missionary, waiting for the opportunity to draw Jane out to present itself. She spent Jane's first weeks in Nonnatus House observing her. She was certainly a meek and nervous thing. In the beginning, she thought that directing Jane towards a sense of accomplishment through work would be the best course of action. All of the nurses took a great deal of pride and satisfaction in their work. Indeed, she did herself. She assumed Jane would as well.

Thus, when Sister Monica Joan insisted that Jane be the emissary to the Carter sisters, Sister Bernadette had done all she could to prepare her for the visit. As they trotted down the steps towards the bicycle shed, she concentrated each moment with every last scrap of advice she could think of regarding the care and feeding of the belligerent twins. Still, she could not shake a sense of concern for Jane in this venture. She watched her ride away with a feeling of dread that she was being pushed too far too soon. A feeling she was justified in entertaining when Jane returned, stunned and remorseful, delivery pack in a shambles after suffering the effects of Meg Carter's defensive tirade.

The young nurses had attempted to take her under their wings, but that had ended in embarrassment and discomfort. The morning after the fair, Sister Bernadette had joined the young nurses at breakfast. They were visibly upset.

As she sat down, she said, "Greetings, ladies! Oh, my! What gathers your brows like gathering storm?"

They glanced at each other sheepishly. In the end, it was Cynthia who told of the mortification they had unwittingly caused Jane as they were exchanging first kiss stories. Sister Bernadette understood the distress Jane must be feeling better than the nurses.

So, Jane joined them, Sister Bernadette was not surprised to see Jane toy with her toast and jam in an uncomfortable silence, not attempt eye contact with the sympathetic and apologetic gazes from across the table, and quietly rise to leave mere moments after she arrived.

The nurses were visibly distraught.

"_Is she alright, sister?"_ always generous Cynthia appealed to Sister Bernadette's gentle guidance.

Sister Bernadette struggled to put the words together. How to tell them what they needed to know without revealing too much?

"_Jane is a quiet soul. Not one for displaying her emotions. It's hard to tell." _

"_But to have lived her life without so much as a kiss!'_ Trixie blurted out.

Sister Bernadette would have been annoyed with this candid observation if she hadn't known that Trixie was more distressed with the lack of love and affection Jane had endured growing up than with lack of practical experience with the male of the species. She settled on teasingly stating the obvious,

"_Don't forget, you are speaking to a nun, Trixie."_

Trixie capitulated with her usual good humour and Sister Bernadette continued,

"_I sympathize, I really do. But as Jane is practically silent around her colleagues, her ability to speak to men is probably beyond her." _

And she did sympathize, to her core.

Sister Bernadette had been much like Jane in personality - gentle, introverted, and somewhat naïve. She had transitioned from her father's house to the nurse's home, from Chichester to Nonnatus with the ease that only the conviction of her faith and boldness of youth could have given her the courage to do. From a very early age, she couldn't have been more certain what God wanted of her. She knew what her purpose was in the world. It never occurred to her that there might be something…else.

Until recently.

She could not dwell on these thoughts for very long without that gnawing feeling of emptiness at her core. All she could do was what she had always done, what she knew she was meant to do, what she had been told she had a talent to do, but not gaining the same satisfaction from it. The shock waves of realization would vibrate through her when she least expected it.

The Reverend Appleby-Thornton was a talkative man, almost as if he were trying to distract himself from what the silence might awaken in his own soul. Despite that, she liked him. He may be verbose but he was certainly not pompous. Through his nervous whittering away, she sensed a man of singular understanding. He was forthright in his enthusiasm and there was something about his flaws that made him deeply human. A trait of which he proved to have an acute understanding.

"_It is my belief that Nurse Noakes calling came as much from her humanity as it did the Lord God Almighty." _

Those words took her aback, not because she disapproved, but because it hit a quiet bell of vague awakening in her. It echoed in her so intensely that she almost certain that the others would be able to hear it. She averted her head so no one at the table would see what was in her eyes. She hoped that the Reverend remained oblivious.

That afternoon, she sought refuge in the chapel to ponder the word: _humanity._ She was surrounded by _the_ humanity of the people of Poplar, _the_ humanity of the service she offered, but her calling came fully from the spiritual plane. Recently, she began to feel as if her humanity and spirituality were in a game of tug-of-war over her soul. She wondered if it was her own humanity that called her to this work? God asked for her spirit, which she gave freely and whole-heartedly but all the while she could feel something else bubbling under the surface seeking a crack by which to escape.

And escape it did, usually in her unguarded moments. She had always been able to trust the spirit to guide her, but it seems that of late this spirit was leading her to places she thought were best left alone.

If she had to trace the first breach of her spiritual armour it would have been when she had seen his slight twitch of startled recognition as she told him that she had lost her mother young. She realized that she was opening a door to her life before taking orders, allowing him a glimpse of the human being under the habit.

Then she heard the words, "_Children are more resilient than you think," _bubble out of the depths of her past.

What had prompted her to reveal that? He was a highly respected colleague, but she could not have termed him as much more than that, despite the years they had spent in each others professional company. She had begun the conversation with the intention to offer a pastoral balm but, somehow it hadn't ended there as it usually did when she offered her spiritual comfort and support. Deep down, she knew that, although she would not hesitate to offer comfort to anyone, she would never have offered it with something so personal.

It had been a long time since she had revealed such an intimate detail of her past to another being. Certainly Sr. Julienne was aware of her background, but they never spoke of it. There were never any moments in which they disclosed their inner feelings to each other. She knew she could if she ever felt the need but they faced much more crucial issues together, matters of birth and death. She felt selfish allowing her wish to find that kind of contact with another person escape from her soul. Even more surprised at her choice of person.

They stood there in a stunned silence for a few moments until he deflected her offering by a characteristically self-deprecating statement about his cooking. It was for the best, but she couldn't help feeling a surge of hopefulness when Trixie asked him to tea and, even more surprisingly, a wave of disappointed when he declined.

As she turned to hand him the bag of sterilized equipment, their eyes met as a moment of candour arced between them. Her mouth turned up in a sympathetic smile. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly in acknowledgement and then he was gone.

Moments like that always took her aback after the fact. She had been living one kind of life happily for so long. She couldn't help but think that something deep inside her was reaching out to touch something else. Perhaps Jane was too, especially after a lifetime in an emotionally sterile residential home. She wondered if Jane had the same difficulty allowing the essence of her humanity room to breathe under the crushing anxiety that was her constant companion? She wondered if they were both seeking to reconnect with the essence of what makes them human?

That was when she knew why she had felt trepidatious sending Jane out to the Carter sisters. She had been approaching this completely wrong. She then knew that Jane needed to walk the road to discovering who she was and what she wanted in her own time and at her own pace. Sister Bernadette's only task was to protect and nurture her the journey.

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_**Did you know that FanFiction's spell check does not recognize the word "whittering?'? Unfortunate, that, because it has become one of favorite words. **_

_**Please review. They help immensely and put a stupid grin on my face that I wish you could see. But, alas, I'd have to reveal my true identity...**_


End file.
